A Norwegian Love Story
by OCsRuleMyLife
Summary: Veeeeeery loosely based off of How to Train Your Dragon. Contrary to what Norway had believed, and had wanted to continue believing, dragons were still alive and perfectly well. Can he save his country, his love, and himself? DenNor, SuFin, and lemony.
1. And We Thought They Were Gone

A Norwegian Love Story: Introduction; And We Thought They Were Gone…

The flames and splintering wood skewed through Norway's vision as he took the old stairs of the Viking mansion's tower two or three at a time, until he reached the top. He looked out the window at the clashing and clanging below him, and slowly turned his eyes up towards the blackened sky, where smoke blotted out stars like ink. He scanned the sky for his target in anticipation, fingering his bowstring lightly, and stepping onto the windowsill. He cobblestone frame for the window allowed him to reach up and take hold of the next stone up, after his bow was safe and secure upon his back. He pulled himself upward, until he reached the flat, boarded roof. He swung himself up onto it, and quickly pulled his bow off of his back, and strung an arrow, searching ever more vigorously for his charge. And there! A star was momentarily blotted by the darting of a lightning fast creature. He followed the shadow on the stars with his arrow tip, silently and instinctively calculated a trajectory to intercept, and pulled back the string, ready to make a heavily wounding blow.

Before the arrow is loosed, however, we ought to travel back a bit of time to discover why our dear Norwegian friend is, in this day in age, standing upon the precipice of a Viking tower on its perch, surrounded by clashes, clangs, and flames, drawing back a bowstring and arrow, and to deduce just what he is drawing back the bowstring to hit. In order to answer all these questions, we need but go back a meager fifteen minutes in the lives of all the parties involved…

Norway sat at the table in the foyer of the old Viking mansion, quietly watching England and America argue away over the difference between learnt and learned. Finland, just a few chairs down, happily sat staring at the ceiling, evidently highly interested by a particular nook in the banisters. Iceland sat, looking at his puffin, and debatably quietly having a pleasant conversation with it, while taking notes. Whether it was on what Germany was presenting or what the puffin was explaining was up to speculation. Sweden stared at Finland across the table, occasionally turning his head to Germany, and then whipping his head around at something as a small, versatile object would come careening into his earlobe. Upon finding a paper airplane on the table at a geometrically incriminating position, he would unfold the paper, write something on it, and then tear it to pieces absentmindedly, going back to watching Finland or Germany. The source of the paper airplanes was the Dane at the end of the table, who had positioned himself with the express intention of nailing Sweden's earlobe with an air force of Xerox-sponsored fighter planes. Sweden quietly resisted the unadulterated air barrage, though he did begin to wonder if Denmark had intended to give him a free ear piercing. Denmark, who had made his short presentation on his petition for a trade policy, was now using the presentation as his chain of supply, thus strengthening his carbon combat with each destruction of a trade suggestion. Estonia sat tapping at his keyboard, probably taking studious notes on situation; not just Germany's presentation, but also every little detail with the other nations.

Then, a soft sound caught Norway's attention. He looked at Iceland and his puffin. The sound was definitely not a puffin sound. Once again the sound came; a small, nearly screeching sound, like an eagle as it swoops for the prey. Only it was certainly not an eagle. He turned behind him. "Treehorn? Was that you?"

The troll shook its head, now wandering away to find something entertaining, like a rabbit. He could eat rabbit. Norway rolled his eyes at the obviousness of the troll's one track mind, and turned back to the table, disregarding the noise. The third time, though, it was unmistakable. The sound being loud and near, many nations, namely France, ducked under their chairs in fright. Norway jumped up, and ran to the warped glass window, looking outside. "I thought I'd gotten rid of all of you…"

"Gotten rid of all of whom, Norway?" England asked with tilted head.

Norway muttered quietly, "Dragons…"

No one having heard him, the next ten seconds were completely unexpected, and completely unforgettable. A window shattered as a burst of flame exploded through it, sending old and deformed glass through the room. Norway stood, even as the window shattered, and clutched a longsword's hilt on the wall, tugging it off, and attaching it to his belt while most scrambled for cover. He turned, secondly grabbing an ornate shield made of thick hide. He finally put around his back a longbow, attaching the quiver to his right hip. He turned to the room, and saw that there were now five people standing. Himself, firstly. The next closes was Finland, who had a fairly lost look on his face, but the dagger that had been acquired at his side said to the contrary. Then was Sweden, who had stood and pulled out his long black battle axe, looking no different than he usually did on a normal day. Iceland had his puffin on his wrist, a small sword in his left hand. Lastly, his eyes turned to Denmark, who stood, massive axe on his shoulder, ready to head on out into the mess outside. Norway looked out at the window, and just as the next wave of flame burst in the windows, the five Nordics were hurdling out of them. They hit the ground with a single, united goal in mind, and a single, united stride. They then split into an almost perfect formation. Finland went immediately towards the forge that every single Viking mansion worth its wares had, grabbing the time-worn weapons and sharpening them out of instant habit. Sweden recklessly careened towards the shore, axe held at the ready. Iceland climbed a ladder to the roof, and whispered something to the puffin, and it flew off in the direction of the un-fairytale-small dragons. Denmark was the only thing that damaged the formation; he seemed to randomly go after whatever dragon suited him nearby. The corner of Norway's lips actually turned up into a tiny smile. _Much better than a world meeting… now… let's get rid of some dragons._

* * *

That's the introduction of to A Norwegian Love Story. Please review, if you will be so kind, and I will be very happy. This is to fill a request, and the lemon-y chapters will be a bit later. Until then, the plot holes will be filled and such. Thanks!


	2. Of Blood and Thunder

Chapter One: Of Blood and Thunder

Norway ran forward, ducking to his right as a small jet of flame whisked past him dangerously. He drew the longsword, sliding to a stop in the grass as a dragon landed in front of him. It was long in body and neck, and raised its head so it was about twice the height of the Norwegian man. Its scales were red and orange, rounded and sharp simultaneously. It had small black horns, and black claws on the ends of its wings. Norway raised his shield as it reared its head and let out a roar of fire. Norway crouched, feeling his hat singe, and the sword in his hand grow hot, the grass around him dying and shriveling instantly, and his boots even melting some. He stepped forward, pushing himself forward against the torrent of flame on his arm. He, when close enough, slid under his own shield, taking a stab at the dragon's soft underbelly. It shrieked, and leapt upward, flying off toward a safe haven. He looked up after it, stamped a small flame out on the grass, and looked about, estimating the size of the raid. After determining it was relatively small, he was about to turn towards the mansion to reassure the other nations that it was just a little flare up of his mythical creatures, when suddenly a loud whipping sound was heard, like the sound an arrow makes through the air, only one hundred times louder and faster. A black shadow flashed by, emitting a purple spray of flame, which exploded between him and the mansion. _Terrorwing._ He looked up at the sky, wheeling in his direction, and running towards the tower at the end of the mansion.

Sweden stood atop the rocks where the ocean met the tract of land the mansion was on, his axe head between the teeth of a midsized dragon, and his foot on the nose of another. He finally wrenched the axe from the jaws of the beast, and swung it in a sweeping strike, letting it meet the head of the dragon previously engaged with his foot. The creature toppled, and he wiped the stain of blood from his cheek, turning to get a better swing at the dragon who had previously been attempting to snack on his axe. Instead, it met the clang of the rock as the dragon hissed and lunged backward. Sweden leapt down from his perch, taking a vertical chop down, which the dragon jumped from. It began to produce the flammable gas in its mouth, preparing to eject it at him, but he quickly kicked it in the lower jaw with a hard and well-placed boot. He made a second kick to the side of its face, now exposed to him, and then raised his axe to deal a finishing blow, but when the axe came down, it hit nothing but solid stone once again, and this time was one time too many for the old, weathered axe, and it snapped, leaving a semi-long piece of wood, sharp and jagged at the end, as his weapon. The dragon seemed to cackle at the victory it had nearly won, and opened its mouth once again to deal its own blow. As the fire went out at Sweden, he leapt upward, landing on the dragon's neck, facing its tail, and gripped tightly, shimmying down the neck about three feet, while the dragon flailed aimlessly, attempting to get even a bit of the flame onto its aggressor. Sweden, however, avoided the bursts of fire, and now dropped around the neck, so he was hanging off the bottom, and gripped a little tighter with his left hand, bringing the right hand down with the makeshift wooden pike, and drove it into the chest of the dragon, causing it to elicit a loud screech, which made Sweden drop down onto the rock to scramble away as the dragon shook its head and let its fire flow, collapsing in death onto the rock. Sweden took a deep breath, grabbing his hat from beside him, and fixing it on. He was going to need a new weapon…

Iceland held the sword in his off hand, pointing to a dragon at the end of the roof, and his puffin spun through the air, evading the dancing flames through the night, and homing in on the dragon's eye. It opened its wings to slow down, and then dropped its tall, fat beak to the dragon's eye, pecking away, until the dragon snapped at it. The puffin darted upward, evading the snap, and dropping down onto the dragon's other eye. It flailed and snatched, by the puffin, being smaller, darted off of the trajectory of the dragon, and it impaled its own eye with the claw on the end of its wing. It yelped and screeched, and the puffin now pecked viciously, and unsuccessfully, at its chest. The raging dragon swept its claw towards the annoying bird, and the puffin dropped to the roof, as yet again the unintelligent dragon impaled itself, this time mortally. It stumbled, and the puffin wobbled its way out from under it, as it collapsed down, then tumbled off the roof. Iceland spun as he felt pressure behind him on the roof, facing a relatively small dragon. He shifted the sword to his right hand, waiting for its first move. It advanced him, and he took a step back. Thinking it had him afraid, it haughtily continued its advance, until it was nearly within combat distance. It opened its mouth, about to snap at him, and he stepped to the right just as it did, simultaneously bringing the sword down on its throat. He frowned at the red-stained steel.

Denmark leapt a good six feet in the air, swinging his axe dramatically, and rending a large dragon in half. He landed, spat the blood off of his face, and turned, as the next one landed a few feet in front of him. He spun his axe, a grin coming to his face. The dragon began cautiously advancing him, and he returned the advance. With no caution whatsoever. He brought down the axe, getting it stuck in the ground when it missed the dragon initially, and then yanked the axe out, spinning like a top. The dragon flew a bit above him, and he changed his momentum to bring the axe in an arc above his head. It struck the dragon's belly, but it was only injured, as it dropped on the other side of him. He tugged a couple times to retrieve the axe from the ground once more, and this time attempted half-swing hacking at the dragon. It mostly just scooted backwards in fear of the vicious onslaught, as Denmark quickly advanced with his insane attacks. The dragon attempted to turn tail and run, but as it turned, the axe dropped down on its tail. The last three feet of the tail were removed forcibly, and the dragon gave a half-yelp, half-screech. Denmark grabbed the remainder of the tail, pulling himself forward onto the dragon's back, and raised his axe high above his head. He brought it down, ending the fight with having to spit the blood off of his face once again.

Finland laid out a hammer on the platform window at the edge of the forge, and turned back to rekindle the fire, reaching for a handaxe that looked in need of mending. As he slid the handaxe along the spinning grinding wheel, the second window of the forge room was smashed open by the long snout of a particularly ugly dragon.

"Hey hey hey! My forge! No dragons!" Finland hacked at the dragon's nose with the handaxe, causing it to retract it with a whimper. He threw the handaxe out after it, muttering something in Finnish. He then realized that he had thrown the weapon he was just fixing. "Whoops! I'll just find a different one, then…" He grabbed a short sword, putting it up against the grinder, smiling to himself and humming something.

"(I) n'd (a) w'p'n."

Finland turned to see Sweden, arms crossed, stepping on a dragon's wing. "N'w."

Finland smiled, pointing to the hammer. "Will that work?"

"Y's. (I) s'pp'se 't w'll d'."

Finland grinned at Sweden, "Great day, right? I just love feeling like a Viking again. I missed the old days." The dragon gave a second attempt at jabbing its nose into the forge, and Finland turned to it again, this time swinging the sword at its nose, and hacking away a bit. "Get out! Out, out, out! Dragons are bad for forges! They melt the weapons! Bad! Go! Out! If you try to come in here again, I'll shove a longboat so far up your ass that you'll cough up an oar!"

The color of the glare aura around Sweden changed very slightly, which Finland recognized as amusement. He smiled a ditzy smile at Sweden. "Hey, I was crazy like that once too…"

The flames and splintering wood skewed through Norway's vision as he took the old stairs of the Viking mansion's tower two or three at a time, until he reached the top. He looked out the window at the clashing and clanging below him, and slowly turned his eyes up towards the blackened sky, where smoke blotted out stars like ink. He scanned the sky for his target in anticipation, fingering his bowstring lightly, and stepping onto the windowsill. He cobblestone frame for the window allowed him to reach up and take hold of the next stone up, after his bow was safe and secure upon his back. He pulled himself upward, until he reached the flat, boarded roof. He swung himself up onto it, and quickly pulled his bow off of his back, and strung an arrow, searching ever more vigorously for his charge. And there! A star was momentarily blotted by the darting of a lightning fast creature. He followed the shadow on the stars with his arrow tip, silently and instinctively calculated a trajectory to intercept, and pulled back the string, ready to make a heavily wounding blow.

He let the arrow fly, and listened for a confirmation of his accuracy. He heard a terrible, gut-wrenching, blood-curdling shriek, and saw the blotting path of stars go steadily downward until it met the horizon on the coast. He lowered his bow, as the night began to quiet down. Perfect shot.

* * *

How was that for epic? Even Mr. Puffin was epic! And don't we all just love Finland? So great. Anyhow, I put a lot of work into this chapter, so if you could review, it would make this author very happy. I'm going to sleep now. Very tired. But please review! Yeah. :D


	3. Mousecatcher

Chapter Two; Mousecatcher

"'F w' d'n't k'll th'm, th'll k'll 's."

"But I don't want to kill them. They're my dragons."

"D' y' w'nt th'm k'll'ng y'r p'pl?"

"Of course not. I can just deal with them more… civilly. Like the trolls. I never had to kill them."

"Tr'lls 'r m'ch st'p'd'r th'n dr'g'ns. 'nd m'r 's'l' p'rs'd'd."

"Sweden… fine. I'll go kill the Terrorwing I shot down."

Sweden's glower face changed aura to the color that meant he was highly amused. "Y'? Sh't d'wn (a) T'rr'rw'ng?"

"Yes. I did."

"N'b'd' sh'ts d'wn T'rr'rw'ngs, N'rw'."

"Well, I did. I'll go and kill it and bring it back."

"'k', s'r', f'n'."

Norway's normally stoic face was particularly hardened after the other countries had left the mansion, as he now sat where Germany had been sitting previously. Finland came and sat beside him.

"It's not you he doesn't like, so ya know."

Norway turned his head towards the violet-eyed blonde with the earnest look on his face. His own stoic face loosened slightly, but was still fairly sage. "He just doesn't like my ideals."

Finland's mouth opened a bit, then shut again, while he deliberated an answer. "Yeah. It's not what's outside he hates… it's what's INside that he can't stand."

Norway's face elongated as he turned his head. "Thanks, Finn…" He said dryly.

"You're welcome!" Finland grinned, and leaned back in his chair.

Norway stood, turning towards the back door of the mansion. "Hey, where're you going?"

"To… collect something."

In a few hours, Norway was standing at the top of a hill in the trees, holding out a notebook, 'x'ing off another spot on a hand-drawn map of the coast. Realizing he had 'x'ed off every reasonable spot within ten miles of the mansion, he took the pen and scribbled all across the pages of the notebook in rage. As he walked forward while doing this, he stepped straight into the branch of an old tree. He 'gah'ed in pain, whacking it aside with the back of his hand. Upon whacking it aside, he realized it was broken; hanging by only half of the branch from the tree. He looked up at the branch, then down, seeing a trench in the dirt that trailed all the way down towards an unknown destination. He tilted his head, and stepped into the trench. It was wide and deep; about as tall as him and as wide as his extended arms. He began to walk down the trench, and the going gradually got easier as the trench got smaller. He soon came to a clearing, and froze. In the center of the clearing was a long, slender, black dragon, with a very catlike appearance. He reached to his side, drawing his sword, and walked towards it slowly. He watched it, and it appeared lifeless and still. When he came particularly close, he saw that his arrow had pierced just in front of its left leg, into the fleshy chest. The dragon hacked and coughed briefly, causing Norway to take a step back. He examined its face, finding its eyes closed and locked. He looked up to the wings, and the tail, then slid his eyes back, now finding he was staring straight into the gateway of the dragon's soul. The pupil was tall and elongated, much like a cat's, and there were flecks of darker green throughout the green eye. There was not a spot of white on the eye, only green. An overwhelming emerald green that captured Norway briefly. He shook his head away, and raised the sword to kill the dragon.

The dragon lowered its head in an admonition of defeat, and closed the absorbing green eyes. Norway closed his own eyes, trying to stomach the idea of killing one of his mythical creatures in so needless a situation. _You don't have to kill me._

"What?"

He looked down, sure that there was some strange guilt playing over in his head.

_You don't have to kill me._

He lowered the sword, staring at the re-opened green eyes. "I… what… are you… speaking?"

The dragon's eyes narrowed slightly. _Speaking…? No. That is what you are doing. I am… connecting._

Norway opened his mouth, and then closed it again. "How is it you can… connect?"

_Why can England see unicorns?_

Norway had no answer for that one, and wasn't really sure how the dragon knew England in the first place.

_Because he still believes in them. Little children see Santa Claus as long as they believe, and you hear dragon's voices. Because you have not dismissed the inherent… humanity is not the right word…_

"Civility?"

_The inherent civility of dragons, you can still hear them. If I were to connect with, say, Sweden… there would be no full message._

"Ah… interesting…"

_Now… if you would be so kind, could you retrieve your arrow? I can't heal it over when the metal is still imbedded._

Norway nodded, sliding the sword into its sheath, and putting his hand on the chest of the dragon, palm down, beside the arrow. He put his other hand on the front-most part of the arrow he could reach, and tugged, getting a grunt from the dragon and an arrow back in his hand. He dropped it in the quiver on his hip, and sat on a rock not far from the dragon. It stood on all fours, and stretched a cat-like stretch, yawning widely. He watched the dragon as the cut on its chest quickly filled over with the flesh and thinner scales where they were all supposed to be. The dragon turned its head suddenly, which peaked Norway's interest. The dragon suddenly lashed out its large, black foot, catching something small. It then brought the something in front of its face, standing on its back legs, and almost seeming to paw at the thing in its hand. Norway, upon further examination, discovered it was a mouse. Finally, the dragon dropped it in its mouth, swallowing contentedly. _I always love a good mouse in the morning._

The dragon then turned tail and began to walk towards a bowl in the rocks, with a little lake in the middle. _Now farewell, Norway. Perhaps we'll meet again someday._

Norway followed behind it. "But… you never gave me anything to call you."

_Oh? Hm… we generally do not go by names as dragons—we always get who we're talking to by one-on-one connection…_

"Then I'll call you Mousecatcher."

_What?_

"Mousecatcher. Because you like mice so much."

_Whatever you wish. I think I am overdue for a long vacation…_ The dragon jumped down into the bowl, landing beside the lake, and dipping its head down, pulling out a fish. Norway sat on the edge of the bowl. No harm in sitting around a little longer, anyway.

* * *

Next chapter will be when Prussia, America, Estonia, Denmark, and Norway will get to start getting lessons from Finland! And things go dooooownhill. So look forward to it! Until then, please review. I was having some serious writer's block on this chapter. I worked hard on it. So please tell me how well I overcame the writer's block.


	4. All Of Me

Chapter Three; All of Me

Norway looked up at Denmark's eyes, felt his breath on his nose, one hand on his wrist connecting him to the rock behind him, and one hand on his waist. His own hand wandered slowly from Denmark's hair down to his shoulder, the other trapped on the rock. He closed his eyes briefly, feeling the breath come closer and move down towards his neck. Just before he felt anything but warm, smooth breath on his neck, he remembered how the days had led them there.

Norway sketched in his notebook the different things Mousecatcher did as he wandered his little vacation bowl. After taking careful sketches for a while, he slid down the side of the stone bowl, walking towards his new dragon friend. He closed the notebook, sliding it into his coat pocket. He dropped the pen into his other pocket, and then leaned against a rock not too far from the dragon. He watched quietly, arms crossed. Eventually, the dragon turned to him. _Would you like something?_

"How can we stop you from attacking?"

_Hmmmm… you can't. Nothing you can do about it._

"I don't believe you."

_Fine by me._ The dragon turned again, and drove a claw into the water, extracting a fish on the end of the claw. It dropped the fish in its mouth, and went for another. After a few times, it extracted a long, slender creature. Norway tilted his head, watching as Mousecatcher hissed and threw the eel back into the water, backing up and hissing more. The dragon stood on its hind legs, and jetted out a quick stream of flame into the lake, obviously upset with its catch. Norway raised an eyebrow, taking out his notebook and opening it, sketching down the eel and the reaction the dragon had. He yawned, and closed the notebook. He pulled back his sleeve to observe his watch, and stood, turning. _Leaving so soon?_

"I ought to get back. I'll be back tomorrow, more likely than not."

He was brought back to reality by a pair of soft lips on the smooth flesh of his neck, and the gentle scraping of teeth. He put his hand on the back of Denmark's head, flicking the obnoxious little hat off of his head onto the rock behind him. He ran the free hand up and down Den's back, breaking his other hand out from under his grip, and brought that one to the back of his head. Norway then brought his hands to the front of Denmark's jacket, popping the gold buttons of the long black coat, while Den held his arms at his sides so the coat would slide off. He then took his head away from Norway's neck, and smiled, pulling Norway's hat off, and putting one of Norway's jacket buttons between his fingers. Norway's brain wandered back.

He fiddled with the button on his jacket, watching as Sweden and Finland stood on the end of the dock, talking.

"Y' c'n't c'm, F'nl'nd. S'm'n h's t' tr'n th' 'n's wh' st'd."

"I know… but I don't want you to go alone."

"'ll b' f'n. D'n't w'rr'. H'v (I) 'v'r n't c'm b'ck?"

"Well, duh no, but what if this is the one time you don't?"

"H'v (a) l'ttl f'th, F'n."

Norway sighed, turning around, and blowing a piece of dust off of the button. He wandered towards the stairs back up towards the hard, rocky coast, holding onto the long wooden railing as he went. From about three steps from the top of the stairway, he turned, looking back at Sweden rowing a small boat out into the misty water towards where the dragons theoretically came from. Finland waved him off sadly, waiting until he was long gone before moving a step from the dock. Norway waited at the top of the stairs, leaning against the wooden rail. When Finland slowly walked up towards him, he watched him quietly, but finally broke the silence. "He'll come back fine, Finland."

"Yeah, I know… I just don't like it when he does this."

"He has to. It's the way he works."

"Well, who stayed? Sweden wants me to show them how to get rid of dragons properly. It's always nice to have a refresher course, right?"

"If you say so. Well, at least Denmark and Iceland."

At that moment a puffin landed on the ground, pecking at a small, fat yellow bird, and chasing it around. Prussia came running towards them. "HEY! Don't attack Gilbird!"

From out of the branches of a tree, Iceland dropped, crushing Prussia to the ground with a quick elbow to the crick of his neck and a foot to his shoulder blade. He stood on the now groaning man's back, looking up at them silently. There was then the sound of a battle-axe clanging off of stone, followed quickly by, "Dude, dude, dude, I'm totally sorry, I definitely didn't mean that! Definitely not! So there's no need to turn me into quarters or whatever you said!"

The American dived behind Finland, and Denmark stood before them raging. Then, from the top of another rock, not too far away, a self-assured, Baltic accent rang. "Well, Finland, I think you have your answer… jah?"

Once again, Norway's brain shot back to the present as his jacket was pulled off and thrown up on the tall rock. The top button of his shirt was quickly undone, and Denmark's hands continued down. Norway's hands began at Denmark's waist, and started unbuttoning from the bottom. His eyes transferred back and forth from Den's to the buttons, and fairly quickly the shirts were tossed away in a little pile. Norway took Denmark's shoulders, and spun him, pressing him against the rock. He leaned forward, pressing their warms torsos together, and meeting their lips, his hands taking in the feel of Denmark's sides.

Norway smoothed out the sides of his jacket absentmindedly, looking beside him at Finland. Finland looked around at the people who had stayed. "Well this… sucks. I thought maybe some USEFUL people would stay in addition to us…"

Estonia frowned as he slid down the rock, landing elegantly. "What do you mean, 'useful' people? We're plenty useful."

"I like you a lot, Estonia, but you can't kill a dragon."

"Sure I can! I won't even need training."

Finland raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Anyone ELSE believe the same thing?"

America stood up from behind Finland. "I bet I don't…"

Prussia finally managed to wiggle away from Iceland. "No way the AWESOME me does."

Denmark tapped his hands together. "Do we count? Because no way I do."

Norway thought for a moment, and scratched the back of his head, nodding slightly. "I… do not believe I do."

Finland pointed to Estonia. "Estonia, weapon of choice?"

"Can I have a gun?"

"Do I look like I have a gun to give you?"

"Then… give me a broadsword."

Finland pulled a broadsword from his endless anime coat, and threw it to Estonia, who caught it, and drew a small, curved knife for himself. "Alright then. If you're so ready, disarm me."

"What?"

"Disarm me."

Estonia tossed the sword between hands. "Really?"

"Yep."

Estonia stepped slowly forward, holding his sword at the ready. As soon as he was about seven feet away, Finland changed his weight forward, and then suddenly crashed his shoulder into Estonia's chest, spun, landing his fist into Estonia's stomach, then hit him in the back of the head with the hat of the knife as he came down to clutch his stomach. Estonia stumbled forward, and Finland swept a kick to just behind his knee, and he collapsed half-backwards, to get his hair caught be Finland. He made a noise of pain, and Finland then tossed him over, and he crashed to the ground. Finland kicked his sword away, and stepped on his chest. "Not ready. You'd be dead six times by now."

He turned. "Prussia. Think you can do better?"

"Uh… duh?"

"Prove it."

Prussia's Teutonic sword appeared in his hand, and he darted forward, swinging it at Finland's neck. Finland ducked, and kicked him in the stomach, hard. Prussia coughed, but was otherwise unfazed, bringing the sword down towards Finland, who blocked it with the side of the knife, and used the fingerguard on the knife to redirect the sword in a perpendicular to its original direction. He then spun his foot into Prussia's ankle, sending him tripping. He spun, managing to re-right himself, and take a swing at Finland, who stepped back, and kicked Prussia gently, and his momentum did the rest. He stumbled, and Finland was there when he did. He caught him, using a hand to catch Prussia's sword wrist, and the other to pin his other arm with his elbow and hold the knife to his throat. "Obviously not."

He kicked Prussia onto Estonia, and looked over at America. "And you. Still think so?"

"Yep! Still the strongest country in the world!"

Just as the word 'world' left his mouth, the hat of Finland's knife crashed into his nose, and he sprawled. He knelt down beside America. "Strength doesn't matter if you can't hit." Finland stood again, and turned to Denmark. "Den?"

"NOPE! Changed my mind! I value my life!"

Finland chuckled. "Good answer." He turned to Norway. Norway shook his head. He then looked at Iceland. "Iceland. Shall we demonstrate what they will really be learning?"

Iceland nodded, drawing his short sword and standing calmly. He and Finland eyed each other briefly, then sprang into action, their blades meeting in the middle. Finland brought a knee towards Iceland's stomach, but Iceland used his free hand to grab the knee and spin Finland towards the ground. Finland, instead of hitting the ground flat, rolled, avoiding the stab of Iceland's sword into the ground where he was. When Iceland stabbed the ground, Finland, from the ground, kicked Iceland in the shoulder closest to him, and when Iceland stumbled, Finland jumped up, stealing the briefly abandoned weapon. He swung the sword, and Iceland ducked, then jabbed with the knife, and Iceland spun out of the way, bringing a kick to Finland's kidney, and whistling to Mr. Puffin. The puffin flew at Finland, pecking him in the back of the head. Iceland used the brief time of Finland's distraction to kick one wrist, sending the sword flying, then grab the other, twisting it with a crack, and the knife dropped. Finland winced, but brought his knee successfully to Iceland's stomach, and in response got a palm firmly to his temple. He punched at Iceland's face, and he swung his arm sideways in a block, throwing Finland's punch askew, then grabbed his arm, turned around, and threw him onto his back. Finland rolled again, took to his feet, and spun a kick to Iceland's chest. Iceland now fell to the ground, and Finland nearly sat on him to finish it, but as he came down, Iceland slid between his legs and stood, kicking him over and dropping on his back, sitting to trap his legs, and grabbing his arms, holding him in temporary hog-tie. Finland grinned, and looked up at the others. "THAT'S what you've gotta learn."

Norway was once again brought to his current state by the tongue that invaded his mouth, seeking contact. Norway allowed their tongues to slide around together, and began to slide his hands down towards the front of Denmark's pants. Currently, Denmark was more concerned with feeling Norway's chest than anything else. They closed together like this for quite a while, until Denmark wrapped his arms around Norway, and spun them around again, slipping the button on Norway's pants, and letting them drop to the ground.

Denmark turned, walking back towards the woods. "No way, I'm going to DIE in that training!"

Norway frowned after him, and followed, looking at Finland briefly. Denmark didn't stop until they came into a little glade filled with large rocks. He turned. "Why are you following me?"

"Because you need to stay."

"Why?"

"Because I told you to."

Denmark frowned, leaning against a rock. "I just can't. Too hard."

Norway walked up to Denmark, completely straight faced. "You're not allowed to be sad."

"Yes I am."

"No you're not. I won't let you."

Denmark frowned deeper. "Com'on, Norge! Gimme a break."

"No."

"Norge…"

Norway walked closer to Denmark. "Den. What's upsetting you? You normally would have wacked Finland with no shame, even if you ended up losing."

"I…" He turned his head. "Didn't feel like it."

Norway put his hands on his hips. "Deeen."

Denmark turned around and put his head on the rock. "I just… something's been bugging me."

"You can tell me, Den."

He looked over his shoulder at Norway, then back at the rock. "It's… you."

Norway kicked him as hard as he could into the rock. "What's the supposed to mean?"

Denmark turned around, grabbing Norway's wrist, and pushing him against the rock. "I MEAN I CAN'T GET YOU OUT OF MY HEAD. I CAN'T STOP THINKING OF YOU. I WATCH YOU WALK. I WATCH YOU LEAN. I WATCH YOU EAT. I WATCH YOU SIT. I… I love you, Norge. I want you." He kissed him passionately, then broke it, staring straight into Norway's eyes.

"You've been thinking about that a lot, lately, hm?"

"Yeah."

"And it's bugged you."

"Yeah."

"Let it stop bugging you."

"How?"

"You can have me, Den."

"What…?"

"You're not stupid, Den. You can have me. Right here, right now. What you want, you can have. No restrictions, no disclaimers. But no refunds, either. You say you don't love me tomorrow, I WILL cut your heart out with a tree branch broken off of a burnt willow and covered in maggots."

"No… we'll be no different tomorrow." And that was how he had gotten there, looking up into Denmark's eyes against the rock.

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The lemon will be finished next chapter, I promise. But it will come faster with reviews. ;P Anyway, I also have another note. Go to this website: Cheng and Tsui Superstar Videos, and click on the Pop Life video at the top. Then go to the top right corner and vote for them. They are my buddies, who help make this possible through inpsiritations. So make them win! Thanks! Please review, and g'night~.


	5. All Of Me: Really This Time

Short, lemon-y goodness. Teehee.

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Chapter Four: All of Me… Really This Time 3

Norway watched Denmark's face, stepping out of his pants, and kicking them aside. He gave a flat stare, as usual, up and down, and ran his hands up Denmark's full muscles. He caressed gently down his skin, while Denmark leaned to slide his tongue across the top of Norway's chest. The Norwegian tilted his head up to give Denmark extra room to play, and moved his hands slowly towards the front of Den's pants. Before Denmark really knew it, his pants were dropped to the ground, and he was pushed over, Norway straddling him, hands on his shoulders.

"Denmark."

"Hm?"

Norway's finger slid from his left shoulder to his chin. "Do you mean this? Honestly?"

"How so?"

"I'm asking…" Norway slid his finger into Denmark's mouth. "Do you love me this much?"

Denmark silently contemplated the question for merely a moment, and nodded, his tongue lightly gracing Norge's finger. Norway replaced his finger with his tongue, pressing their lips together for ten or twenty seconds. When he retreated his lips, his gave Den a very small, very quick smile, but the Danish man smiled honestly, knowing that that was as close to 'I love you too' as he would get from the Norwegian. He slid his hands down the sides of his love, pulling Norway's underwear off. Norway slipped out of them, and sat back, scooting off of Denmark's legs and looking at him expectantly. Denmark stared confusedly, looked down at the attractiveness that was Norway's vital region, and then back to his face. And then it finally dawned on him, and he scooted back. "Woah, woah, woah, Norge… I dunno about that…"

Before he could argue for his defense, Norway's hands had dragged his head down to Norway's own agenda, making Denmark suck and move his head up and down. Norway curled his fingers in Denmark's hair, enjoying the submissive face and nature of his Danish counterpart. When he finally released Denmark, who swallowed up any evidence, the Dane sat up and wiped his lips. "Okay… that wasn't QUITE as bad as I thought it would be."

Norway watched him expressionlessly. Then, without warning, the Norwegian tackled Denmark over, tugging off his underwear, and flipped him onto his stomach. "Nooooorge… why do I have to be the girl?"

The addressed man answered only by sliding into Denmark from behind. "Really, Norge, why do I hav—"

He was interrupted by a jamming of Norway's hips, then a pulling out, and back in. Norway began slowly, but took from the somewhat bored look on Denmark's face that he ought to go faster. So he did. Soon, he had Denmark grunting under every move he made, while Norway held Denmark's hips tightly, using them as his leverage point.

In a little under an hour, they were laying, Norway on top of Denmark, in the grass, sweaty, hot, and happy. Norway whispered to Denmark, "I just wanted to once. That was it."

"WHAT? I HAVE TO BE COMMITTED, BUT YOU—"

"Be the boy, stupid."

"Oh."

"And… when we can move again… we should get back to training."

"Oh yeah, huh."

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Sorry for the wait, everyone! I was taking an AP test, spending some time up in the mountains, drawing my comic, and renting a tux for prom. (With tails. Oh. Freaking. Yes.) So, please review, everyone, and thanks for reading~ (And for not shoving longboats up my ass- you know who you are.)


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